


Break The Laws Of Love

by Profrock



Series: Break The Laws Of Love [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 15:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4441802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Profrock/pseuds/Profrock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan just wants to go home. His day has been long and exhausting and he's tired, damnit. But then he sees a man on the tube dressed in the exact same clothes he's wearing. What will happen through a meeting a pure coincidence, and will Dan finally be able to get the happy ending he's dreamed of?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Break The Laws Of Love

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a stupid little idea from the prompt "both wearing the exact same outfits on the metro" and I'm not quite sure what happened but it evolved into this. Enjoy, and feedback is always appreciated!

It’s only three pm on Saturday, June 4th and Dan really just wants to go home. His day had not been going very well, fuck you very much, starting from bad to worse then going from worse to utter hell. He had an important law school exam that he completely slept through due to late-night existential crises, then had to scramble to meet his parents for lunch on time. Any quality time he ever spent with his parents unavoidably turned to shouting matches and tense silences after maybe ten minutes, this outing proving no different.

His mother pleaded for him to move back to Manchester, saying that she missed her baby boy and it would be so much more comfortable for him there and also he would have to watch over the twins would that be okay? Great, she had already made the arrangements, despite Dan’s avid protests otherwise. 

And as usual, his father simply sat quietly, thoughtfully chewing in between harsh criticisms about his son’s character. “I see why you don’t have a girlfriend,” he had said at some point out of the blue. Dan tensed up. Had his family figured out he was gay? They weren’t supposed to know that, like, ever. He didn’t know it was that obvious! “You’re too fat,” his dad proclaimed instead, sawing off another bite of steak to shovel into his mouth. “No girl wants a fat man,” he said knowingly through a mouth full of spice and fat.

Dan’s stomach plummeted. He had only just begun to rebuild what was left of his shattered self-confidence, and his family just had to go and ruin it as usual.

The rest of the meal was eaten in icy silence, broken only by snarky, inane comments that the other two chose to ignore. In short, it had been a long day and Dan wanted to be back in his admittedly horribly small Uni flat and spend the rest of the day watching Netflix encased in a blanket cocoon, his perception of the world narrowed to his laptop screen and Maltesers.

 

He unzips his plaid sweatshirt to reveal the tank top he is almost positive his parent wouldn’t appreciate him wearing. He notices two girls at the end of the car eying him, but ignores them in favor of shoving his earbuds into his ears, pressing play and raising the volume. Dead Inside begins and Dan leans back against the uncomfortable tube seat, mouthing the words along with Matt Bellamy.

He opens his eyes when the car pulls to a halt, quickly eying the crowd that enters to make sure there isn’t anyone he needs to give his seat up for. Contrary to popular belief, Dan is actually a nice person and will go small gestures of kindness to strangers even something as simple as making a fifteen minute train ride that much more comfortable for an elderly lady.

Sure that he can keep his seat (it’s not even rush hour yet, the train cars still remain comfortable empty, at least for the London underground), Dan’s eyes begin to drift closed again.

But then he enters the train car. 

Dan knows he’s probably staring, but doesn’t particularly care. The guy is gorgeous, raven hair spilling casually over his forehead, a mirror to Dan’s brown fringe. His blue eyes, as clear as rain and shining as the sun sweep over the car, eventually landing on a seat across from Dan. This gorgeous specimen of a man makes his way to the seat, spinning and sitting with unfairly graceful moves. 

He looks up, his eyes meeting Dan’s, and Dan’s heart decides right then to begin practicing for its solo interpretive tap dance career. The guy looks Dan up and down once, and Dan is absolutely positive his cheeks are a horribly unattractive shade of red. The guy waves, just a tip of the hand really, and Dan shyly waves back, still staring at his face, still blushing like hell.

The guy laughs, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth in a way that should be illegal because no one is allowed to be that adorable. He covers his mouth with his hand, positively shaking with laughter. Dan is momentarily horrified, thinking he has some unsightly stain on his shirt or something equally horrifying. He glances down at himself then up at the man, confused.

The guy catches his gaze, raising an eyebrow. Dan cocks his head in confusion.

He gestures between the two of them, flapping the edge of his coat, running his hands up his thighs, pulling the hem of his shirt slightly. Dan doesn’t get it. He looks down at himself, then back up at the stranger, then slaps his hands over his mouth to stop the spew of giggles. They’re wearing the exact same outfit.

Granted, it looks different on each of the men, but it’s still the same outfit.

The Muse tank top that hangs so loosely off Dan’s chest and shoulders, cut so low as to almost expose his nipple if he’s not careful hugs the contours of this strangers torso as well as a second skin, the alabaster skin of his chest positively mouthwatering. The same blue and black checkerboard hoodie hangs unzipped from their shoulders, a few pins present on the lapels of the strangers’.

Red skinnies cover both boy’s legs, the stranger’s held up by a dark brown belt while Dan’s were falling off his hips at the slightest movement.

Crimson denim leads to grey high top Converse, complete with dirtied laces and grass stains. Dan looks back up at the stranger, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I’m Phil,” the stranger mouths across the train car. “Phil Lester.” He spelled out his name in the air with his fingers.

“Dan Howell,” Dan replies, spelling it as well. He smiles shyly when Phil winks back at him.

Dan closes his eyes with a soft smile, resting his head against the plastic partition next to him. The rocking of the train bumps his head uncomfortably against his headrest, and his eyes fly open again.

 

Dan was what many would consider an introvert; he didn’t have many friends, he didn’t speak to strangers. He had very limited social experience due to self-imposed isolation. Dan Howell rarely texted his friends first, and would never in a million years walk up to a stranger in a train car and begin a conversation.

At least until now, he supposes distantly as he grabs his small backpack and strides purposefully across the car to sink into a seat directly next to Phil.

“Hello,” he says with a cheeky smile. Phil grins back, albeit shyly.

“You’re really cute,” Dan says, the words falling from his lips before he really has time to register them. Phil is blushing.

“And your music taste only makes you about 500 times more attractive, so if you’re not on your way to anywhere I’d like to take you to coffee.” Dan punctuates his little proclamation with a sultry smirk, racketing Phil’s intense blush up another few notches.

“Uh, sure,” Phil mumbles, because holy shit there’s this really sexy man talking to him and wanting to take him out and Phil had little to no idea how to react to that.

“Great!” Dan chirps, bouncing up from his seat. “There’s this adorable little café a few blocks from the next stop.”

Phil just sits there in stunned silence, his brain refusing to believe any of this is happening. He does eventually stand though, as Dan grabs his hands and pulls him to his feet. Dan smiles back at Phil once they exit the station, slowing down so he’s no longer leading Phil, instead walking beside the man. He doesn’t let Phil’s hand go.

 

It’s 10:30 pm at the café. The redheaded barista whose nametag identifies her as Amy shoots the two men pointed glares as she cleans up the tables. Phil smiles, giggling and leading Dan out of the building, throwing Amy a slightly apologetic glance over his shoulder as they step into the cool London night.

“Do you want to come back to mine?” Phil asks after a moment of silence, glancing hopefully over to Dan.

“Sure!” Dan beams, grinning hugely. He had been hoping Phil would offer. He wouldn’t dream of bring Phil back to his tiny room, and it felt rude asking himself over after knowing the man for not even eight hours. 

“Awesome,” Phil grins back, hailing a cab and opening the door for Dan to climb in.

“Such a gentleman,” Dan teases, crawling into the back seat. Phil bites his lip, deciding against saying that he had only done that to get a view of Dan’s butt as he crawled into the car. Phil follows, slamming the door behind him and telling the cabbie his address.

 

Phil hums distractedly as he fiddles with his key, trying to fit it into the lock with shaking hands due to caffeine and nerves. He hopes nothing too embarrassing is happening in his flat, like his pants being on the dining room table. That had happened once when he brought a guy home, and Phil’s friends were never letting him hear the end of it. 

“Is that Zelda?” Dan asks with a laugh when he realizes what Phil is humming. Phil blushes and mumbles a ‘maybe’ under his breath as he accidentally scratches the key across the deadbolt, leaving a clean line across the metal.

“Great,” he mutters. “Now Sherlock’s going to think I’m an alcoholic.” Dan laughs at that, a true, honking laugh that he immediately smothers with his hand. Phil pouts.

“No, it’s cute,” he protests as he finally manages to get the door open. Dan ignores the heat spreading across his cheeks and through his chest as he steps into Phil’s flat, pivoting to get a look around.

Phil’s flat is a simple place, with toys and stuffed animals and other nick-nacks spilling off of shelves and out of drawers. Dan laughs as he picks up an eighteen-inch tall Lego Charmander, holding the object delicately in his hands as he admires it. Phil emerges from the kitchen, seeing Dan and blushing profusely.

“It’s, um, my cousin helped me make it, but he couldn’t travel with it back to the states where he lives so –“

Dan cuts Phil off with a laugh, setting the sculpture back on the shelf.

“No, it’s cute,” he says, winking at Phil, who runs his hands through his hair and clears his throat.

“Right,” he mutters, turning back to the kitchen and beckoning Dan to follow. Phil hops onto the counter, swinging his feet like a little kid. Dan’s heart maybe melts a little bit.

“What do you want to do?” Phil asks. “I’ve got games and things, or we could just –“ “MarioKart?” Dan offers with a sheepish smile. “I, uh, saw it on your shelf as we walked in?”

Phil just giggles, sliding off the counter with a thump and leading Dan back into the living room. “You’re on,” he mock-growls as he sets up the console. “I am king of this game, just so you’re aware.”

“Bring it,” Dan shoots back, attempting and failing to crack his knuckles threateningly. “I’ve beaten it on the highest speed, just so you know. With one hand. Blindfolded. In a pit of lions. And acid. On the moon.”

Phil tosses a controller at Dan’s face, laughing at the brown-haired boy’s expression when the controller hits his face.

“Let’s go then.” Phil smiles back at Dan, nudging him over to make space on the couch.

“I call Yoshi,” Dan says, sticking his tongue out at Phil’s protests.

 

Dan wakes up in a large bed that’s not his own.

‘Oh crap,’ he thinks to himself, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. ‘Who did I have sex with last night?’ He looks around the room. A Muse poster stares back at him. A Sailor Moon action figure salutes him. ‘At least they have good taste,’ Dan muses. He looks down at himself.

He’s wearing a sunshine-yellow shirt he doesn’t recognize as his own, and cookie monster sweatpants that definitely aren’t his.

It all comes rushing back to him in an instant: Phil.

Said man sticks his head through the bedroom door, dark hair ruffled and black-framed glasses perched on his nose.

“Oh good, you’re up,” Phil beams at Dan, cute and disheveled a good look on him. “I made pancakes, let’s go.”

Dan stares for a second as Phil keeps talking, pointing out where the bathroom is if he wants to take a shower, and what drawers hold what in Phil’s room if he wants to borrow some clothes.

“Coffee?” Dan croaks, because it is way too early to have Phil blowing around like a hurricane. A really endearing hurricane with a gorgeous smile.

“In the kitchen!” Phil grins again and pulls back out of the doorway. Dan can hear him tripping down the hallway as he stretches and sighs happily.

‘Yeah,’ he thinks as he slides out of the bed, shivering as his feet touch the cool floor. ‘I could probably get used to this.’

Phil smiles again – or maybe still, Dan can’t honestly tell if he’s stopped yet – at Dan as he stumbles into the kitchen, hair curly and mussed. He offers Dan two mugs of coffee.

“Which would least compromise your masculinity?” he asks. Dan stares at the Hello Kitty mug in Phil’s left hand and the silver one reading ‘princess’ in sparkly pink letters in his right. He opts for the princess one, tentatively taking a sip.

“Wait, how did you know how I liked my coffee?” he asks, surprised. Phil laughs “You had seven cups of the stuff yesterday. I remembered.” He shrugs a bit self-consciously, wondering if he had crossed the border into creepy watching territory at any point. Dan just laughs.

“More than my previous boyfriend ever did for me, and I dated him for a year and a half,” he says, taking another sip. Phil laughs along, handing him a plate of pancakes.

“Come on,” Phil says, taking a plate for himself. “I’m going to show you the beautiful world of Buffy that you’ve apparently never seen, then get you back for winning seventeen times last night.”

Dan’s cheeks begin to hurt from how wide he’s smiling as he follows Phil into the lounge.

 

“Okay, but Brado? Really?” Dan rolls over to look at Phil, eyebrows raised. A snicker escapes. Phil shoves him lightly. “I was eight, okay? My mum got me a hamster and I was over the moon, of course I give it the most bad-butt name I could think of.”

“Bad-butt?” Dan asks, laughing for real this time. “Why don’t you swear, like a normal person?” Phil shrugs at that, playing with his sweatshirt sleeves. 

The two are sat on Phil’s bed, Phil cross-legged and Dan sprawled out over the covers, simply chatting about whatever topic strikes their fancy. Phil glances at the clock by the side of his bed. The glowing numbers read 3:47 am.

“I just don’t like to,” Phil says by way of explanation. Dan pokes his leg. “Repeat after me.” Phil raises an eyebrow. “I’m not making any promises.”

“Just say a swear word? Please?” Dan asks. Phil shakes his head, trying to hide his smile.

“Anything?” Dan wheedles. “Here, I’ll do it first: Cunt. Fuck. Bitch. Pu-“ Phil slaps his hand over Dan’s mouth, giggling like mad. His peek-a-boo tongue makes an appearance, darting between his teeth as he laughs. “No,” he protests. “Never!” 

Dan licks his hand. Phil squeals, yanking his hand back and wiping it furiously on his trousers. Dan has a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, chanting ‘cunt’ under his breath and he keeps solid eye contact with Phil.

Phil just scrunches up his nose at Dan, and Dan thinks that it may be the cutest thing he has ever seen.

After maybe thirty seconds of Dan’s swearing mantra, Phil places his hand back over Dan’s mouth. Still looking directly into Dan’s eyes, he dips his head down so there is maybe six inches between their noses. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he breathes, his warm, sweet breath spilling over Dan’s face and ears. He shivers. Okay, scratch that. Phil is not the cutest thing Dan had ever seen. He’s the sexiest too.

Phil just smirks, knowing full well what he is doing to the man on his bed. He moves his hand back, grinning and launching into a very long-winded discussion about something Japanese. Dan just stares, focusing more on the sound of Phil’s voice and the movement of his lips than the words he’s speaking.

 

“No matter how cute you look in my clothes,” Phil begins the next afternoon. “We should probably go and get some of your own.” 

Dan shrugs, distantly supposing that he should go back to his own flat and stop encroaching on Phil’s seemingly endless hospitality, but then Phil grins at him and all thoughts of ever leaving fly immediately out the window.

“Come on,” Phil says, grabbing Dan’s hand. “Don’t be embarrassed about your place or anything, I was there just a couple years ago. Well, probably not exactly there but you get my point.”

Dan laughs, conceding that he probably should get some of his own things, like boxers, soap, and clothes. He also has a really cool poster he thinks would look awesome in Phil’s room…

 

A week after he met Phil on the tube, and Dan hasn’t gone back to his own flat for longer then twenty minutes to pick some things up. He had been staying at Phil’s flat, Phil taking him to and picking him up from classes, always bringing Dan back to his flat rather than Dan’s own. 

Dan is sitting on Phil’s couch, books and papers strewn out around him. He groans, hitting himself in the face with another textbook written about something he doesn’t care about, wanting to call out to Phil but also not wanting to disturb whatever the man is doing. He can hear Phil talking to someone in his bedroom, but Dan knows for a fact that there was no one there. Maybe Phil is on the phone or something. 

He sits on the couch feeling useless for another fifteen minutes until Phil finally exits his bedroom and sits on the lounge chair across from Dan. He puts his dorky-sock-covered feet onto Dan’s lap, smiling with a light bright enough to outshine the sun. Dan smiles back, not objecting in the slightest when Phil shoves all of Dan’s books off his lap and insists that this time he will beat Dan at MarioKart. Dan laughs lightly, brushing Phil’s protests off and making himself comfortable enough to start the race.

 

Fifteen days go by before any of Dan’s friends really notice that he’s gone. Dan isn’t sure if he should be proud at the fact he had successfully distanced himself from all of humanity or offended that none of his friends thought to check up on him before two weeks passed with no word from him. And how his best childhood friend did realize he was gone was not exactly in the best way.

Louse calls Dan one day, hysterical over the phone. She’s crying on the line, so hard that Dan can barely understand what she was saying.

“Dan, are you okay?” she yells frantically. “I just went by your flat and you weren’t there and on my god I think you were robbed! They took all of your stuff Dan, all of the drawers were open and they even took your framed Muse tickets, I am so sorry!” Phil, who had snuck up behind Dan by this point, snickers.

“Louise, it’s okay,” Dan says through his laughter. “No one came and took my stuff. It’s all here, it’s all good.”

“Oh.” Louise is quiet. “Wait. Where’s here?”

“My flat,” Dan says without hesitation. Color floods his cheeks as Phil laughs quietly behind him. “I mean, Phil’s flat.”

“Who’s Phil?” Louise asks suspiciously. Phil plucks the phone from Dan’s hand, ignoring the other boy’s protests.

“Hello!” he says cheerily, ignoring Dan’s face, which was definitely not the most attractive one he’s ever pulled. “I’m Phil.”

“Oh, um, hello,” Louise says, sounding shocked. Dan groans.

“Would you like to pop ‘round?” Phil asks. Dan makes frantic abortive gestures, which Phil also chooses to ignore completely. “So I can get your approval.” He winks at Dan, giggling at the brunet’s gagging reaction.

“Uh, sure,” Louise says after a moment.

“Great!” Phil replies, rattling off his address and hanging up. He flashes Dan a cheeky grin, grabbing his coat, keys, and Dan’s hand.

“Come on,” he says to a perplexed Dan. “We have to go to Tesco to pick up a few things.”

 

“How long has Dan kept you a secret from us?” Louise asks Phil, laughing at some remark Phil had made. Phil and Dan look to each other, bursting out in peals of giggles.

“What?” Louise asks, looking between the two. “Come on, spit it out man, what’s so funny?” Dan waves a hand, still laughing too hard to respond.

“I don’t know Phil,” he says between giggles. “It’s been what, two weeks?”

“And a day,” Phil says, wiping his eyes. 

Louise looks at Dan like he’s grown a second head. Or come out as straight. 

“You do not mean to tell me you two have only known each other half a month!” Louise cries incredulously. Dan shrugs, smiling lightly.

“Yeah. Met on the tube,” Phil says. Louise gapes at him. “Then we got to talking and then he kind of lives here now.”

Louise cuffs Dan on the back of the head, hard.

“What the hell was that for?” he exclaims, holding his head.

“You don’t just move in with strangers you meet on the tube after two hours of knowing them!” she hisses. “He could have been a… rapist or something!”

Dan cracks up at the thought of Phil even pinching someone, let alone sleeping with them without their consent.

Louise huffs, crossing her arms. “Still,” she says. “In theory!”

“Yeah, but he’s not, so your theory is invalid,” Dan points out. Louise groans, running her hands over her face.

Phil isn’t sure if he should be offended or amused by Louise’s comment, settling for an eye roll and an awkward laugh. Dan places a hand on Phil’s knee, shooting him a glance by way of apology for Louise’s comment. Phil shrugs, not terribly worried over it.

 

The two boys eventually wave goodbye to Louise, standing in the doorway together. Dan rests his head on Phil’s shoulder as he stares after his friend. “I know you’re nothing like that, yeah?” he says eventually. Phil nods, the movement feeling odd against Dan’s head.

“Yeah,” he says, watching the steam of his breath curl and float away against the inky, cloud-covered London sky. “I know.”

Dan smiles, moving his head to press his lips against Phil’s neck. He doesn’t know why he does it, it just feels right. Phil makes a soft noise, closing his eyes and sighing. He gently maneuvers the younger boy so they are face to face, leaning in until their foreheads touch.

“S’okay?” the raven-haired man asks, breath spilling sweetly over Dan’s lips, making him shiver.

“Yeah,” he whispers back, brushing his lips tentatively over Phil’s. Phil presses back, a soft sound buzzing over Dan’s lips. They simply stand like that for a few moments, breathing in each other’s air and tasting each other’s scent. They eventually pull away, Phil brushing his fingertips gently over Dan’s cheek, pushing chocolate hair out of caramel eyes.

“Your face is really making me crave a candy bar,” Phil whispers softly. Dan snorts, pressing his face into the crook of Phil’s neck as he shivers. Phil wraps strong, warm arms around the younger, shuffling the two of them inside just as the clouds open.

 

They never have to talk about it; they just know. It’s eighteen months after Dan had sidled up to Phil on the tube and complemented his shirt. Dan had dropped out of Uni months prior, law not working out for him anymore, and started a YouTube channel at Phil’s insistence. Phil’s YouTube channel blew up practically overnight, reaching three million subscribers on their six-month anniversary. He had danced like an idiot around their new flat, tripping over a box and spilling onto the floor at four in the morning. Dan rushed out of their bedroom fearing the worst – that glass kitchen door was going to be the death of one of them, he swore – and was met with a maniacally grinning Phil on the lounge floor in nothing but his pants, chanting ‘three million’ under his breath with child-like excitement and a thrilled giggle. Dan had reached a million the next week.

Dan smiles at the memories as he searches through the drawer in the office for the spare phone charger he swears they own. He pulls out handful after handful of tangled wires, sighing at the hopeless mess. He drops the huge knot on the floor, reaching into his pocket to text Phil to ask him to pick up a charger on the way home before remembering that his phone is dead. He sighs, bending down to gather the discarded wires back into the drawers, pausing as something tucked into the back of the drawer catches his eye.

He cautiously reaches in and pulls it out, whimpering a little bit in pure excitement as his fingers brush soft velvet.

Dan clutches the ring box to his chest, jumping up and down and squealing. He pauses for a moment, hearing his heart pounding frantically in his ears. Against what is probably his better judgment, Dan opens the box.

A silver and diamond ring glitters in the ugly fluorescent lights of the office.

Dan snaps the box shut as he hears keys rattling in the lock outside. He quickly shoves the box back into the drawer, followed by the horribly messy tangle of wires.

He slams the drawer shut and sprints back into their bedroom, throwing himself onto the bed and opening his laptop to Tumblr just as Phil sticks his head into the doorway.

“Hello love,” he greets, bending over Dan’s slouched form to peck him on the lips. Dan grins back, heart still racing.

“Anything eventful happen while I was out?” Phil asks, leaning casually against the doorframe. Dan shrugs, still not trusting his breathing to be fully evened out.

“You look flushed love, are you feeling alright?” Phil asks suddenly, taking note of Dan’s pink cheeks and heavier-than-normal breathing. Dan shook his head again.

“Are you sure?” Phil coaxes, his eyebrows knit together in an adorably concerned expression. 

“Yeah,” Dan croaks, wincing and clearing his throat at how unconvincing he sounded. No wonder acting hadn’t worked out in his teen years.

“Uh-huh.” Phil doesn’t sound convinced.

“My, uh, phone charger broke though, would you happen to know where a spare is?” Dan asks, trying to fob off the conversation on to literally any other topic. His eyes widen as his brain processes what he had effectively managed to switch the conversation to, and he face-palms internally.

“No, I haven’t,” Phil says. He pauses for a moment. “Have you checked the wire drawer?” he asks innocently.

“Nope,” Dan says quickly. His face floods red. “I, uhm, I mean I know that it’s such a horrible mess, and you know I’m hopeless with knots,” he fumbles. Phil raises an eyebrow.

“Right then,” he mumbles more to himself then Dan, wandering off towards the kitchen. Dan groans, pulling his hair over his face. Crap. He slides off the bed in a haze of self-pity, reasoning that he should at least try to act normal as he inches down the hall towards the bathroom by dragging his body along with his heels like an inchworm.

Phil retreats into the office as he hears the shower turn on, taking the ring and bringing it back into the kitchen. He opens the black velvet box, turning the band so it glittered in the sunlight streaming through the open window. So Dan knows. That throws a huge wrench in his plans. Phil stares at the ring until he hears the water shut off, snapping the box closed and shoving it into his pocket. He decides to play around a little bit, smirking to himself as he formulates a plan.

At least he knows Dan can take a joke.

 

The first time it happens is when he takes Dan out on a date, a night for just the two of them. Phil brings the ring, stashed in his front pocket. He knows that you could easily see the outline if you really look for it, but it was all part of the plan anyways.

He takes Dan to a movie that he honestly can’t remember the plot of, spending more time watching Dan than the actual film.

They go out to a fancy dinner next, chatting quietly in the candlelight, sipping expensive wine Phil insists on buying, claiming that they didn’t get to do this that often so Dan had better shut up and enjoy it. Dan laughs at his choice of words, eventually relenting and letting Phil spoil him.

When they finish and pay, they remain sat, simply holding hands and gazing at each other across the table. Neither man particularly cares about how cheesy it is. They’re in love; they’re allowed to be cheesy.

“Oh,” that reminds me,” Phil says, digging into his trousers pocket and scooting out of his chair, motioning Dan to stay seated. Dan’s heart skips a beat. Is he going to do it? Is Phil going to propose?

Dan turns to face Phil as the blue-eyed man knelt.

“This is it,” Dan tells himself. “You are about to be engaged to the most wonderful man in all of creation. You’re gonna get married, Dan. Married!”

“Aha! Got it!” Phil exclaims, snapping Dan out of his internal screaming.

“Wait. Got what?” Dan asks himself. Phil pops up with a twenty-pound note in his hand and a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“Dropped the tip,” he says by way of explanation, slapping it down on the table. “You ready to go?”

Dan thinks he could punch Phil. He settles for kissing him.

 

Over the next month, Phil drives Dan completely up the wall. He always carries the box with him whenever the two leave the house together. And he keeps finding excuses to fucking kneel. Tying his shoes, picking stuff up, he always does it on one knee. After a month, a fucking month of taking it, Dan decides to end it himself.

“Excuse me sir,” the lady behind the jewelry counter says. Dan looks up.

“The women’s engagement rings are over here, sir,” she says, walking over to tap on a different display case. “Those are the men’s.”

“And the ring is for my boyfriend,” Dan says, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “Now can I see the one I want, or are you just gonna make hetero-normative comments at me from across the shop?”

The jewelry lady’s mouth flaps open and shut, no sound coming out as her face floods crimson.

“Isn’t it your break, Madison?” a male voice speaks up from behind Dan. “I suggest you take it.”

Madison nods, rushing into the back room with her head down. Dan turns around.

“Sorry about Maddie,” the guy says. He taps a manicured fingertip to his lips. “She’s so… uncultured.” He smirks at Dan, light brown eyes raking up and down Dan’s body.

Dan doesn’t look impressed. “I’m buying a ring for my boyfriend, please stop with the flirting and get me the damn hunk of metal,” Dan sighs, shoving a hand through his hair. “So do not have time for this,” he mutters, checking the time on his mobile.

“What size?” asks Flirty Store Guy. “Seven.”

Flirty Store Guy sets the ring on the counter. Dan picks it up, admiring the gold and sapphire band, the gems the same shade of blue as Phil’s eyes. He hands over his credit card, refusing to acknowledge the tears beginning to form in the corners of his eyes.

 

It’s almost midday, the sun glaring down on the city for the first time in weeks. Dan and Phil are on their way to meet up with Phil’s sister and a few friends for lunch.

It’s hot on the tube, people pressed in tight against each other. Dan lets out a huge sigh of relief when a load of people get off, only a few entering the car to take their place.

He briefly tunes in to what Phil was saying – something about narwhals – and clears his throat.

“Phil?” he says tentatively. “I have a question.”

Phil looks a mix of confused and concerned. “Of course love, what’s the matter?”

A trio of teenage girls had spotted the two boys across the train car, whispering to each other that AmazingPhil and Danisnotonfire were right there, no you go talk to him! They push each other, giggling, until Dan gets down on one knee. One girl starts filming.

“Philip Michael Lester,” Dan begins, smiling at the look of utter surprise on Phil’s face. “Will you do me the honor of –“ “Yes, you fucking spork,” Phil whispers, hauling Dan up by his jacket front and kissing him senseless. The entire train car cheers as the two kiss, someone wolf whistling which made everyone laugh.

“See what I did there?” Dan asks, gesturing down to his clothes and surroundings. Phil kisses him again. “I can’t believe those red jeans still fit you.” He fishes Dan’s ring out of his own pocket, pressing it into his hands. Dan slides the silver band onto his own finger. He twines his and Phil’s hands together, grinning goofily down at tan fingers mixed with pale ones, gold glinting against silver.

And Dan Howell is happy.

 

“Oh, fuck me,” Dan whispers to himself, smoothing down his immaculate suit. “I’m so scared. I’m crying. Am I? I want to be.”

“Christ you’re difficult,” Louise mutters, rolling her eyes skywards and biting her lips to keep from smiling too big.

“You’re going to do fine,” she says for the thousandth time, picking a piece of non-existent lint of Dan’s jacket. “It’s just Phil, alright?”

“There’s nothing ‘just’ about Phil,” Dan argues, eyes twinkling with humor again. Louise laughs, ushering him out of the changing room.

“Of course,” she says, poking Dan in the back to keep him moving forward. “Now get out there so your beautiful soon-to-be husband can walk down the aisle to you and you can get out of my hair for once and for all.”

Dan nods, taking a breath to center himself before pulling open the huge wooden double doors and making his way through the rows of pews to the alter. He stands at the front of the room, staring hard at the doors to focus on anything other than the hundred or so people staring at him. He tries not to think about the fact that his parents hadn’t shown up.

The double doors open and Dan’s twin cousins pour through. Andrew and Anthony giggle to themselves as they throw black rose petals down the length of the aisle. (“It’ll go with my aesthetic,” Dan had claimed, cheering loudly when Phil finally relented.)

Dan’s brother Montgomery follows the five-year-old boys, walking Phil’s mother to her seat in the front row before moving to stand behind Dan himself.

Lydia, Phil’s sister, walks Dan’s Nan to her seat, stepping forward to her place behind where Phil would be momentarily.

Dan takes a long breath to steady himself, closing his eyes and rolling his shoulders. He cracks them open when cheering starts, signaling his fiancée’s entrance.

Phil positively floats down the carpeted floor, hand tucked neatly into his father’s arm. Dan tries his best to force down the prickles of heat behind his eyelids, ignoring the wet drops that cascade down his cheeks despite his efforts.

Phil’s father walks his son up to his soon-to-be son-in-law, depositing Phil with a gentle kiss on the forehead and a soft ‘I love you’. Dan tries – and fails – to keep from getting too emotional. Phil’s dad squeezes Dan’s arm as well, looking to the young man standing before him.

“I’m gonna be proud to call you a son,” he whispers, winking and making his way back to his own seat. Dan wipes the tear tracks off his cheeks and reaches out for Phil’s hand, squeezing his pale fingers.

The priest reads off some things that neither man particularly registered, choosing instead to gaze with love and a little bit of terror into each other’s eyes. Phil blinks back the beginning of a tear.

“Now the couple has prepared their own vows,” the priest says, folding her hands and nodding at Phil to start. He clears his throat.

“Daniel James Howell, Dan, Danny, Danisnotonfire, Bear, Love, and Sweetheart,” Phil began. “I promise myself to you. My heart, my mind and my soul. I promise you everything under the sun, and your wish is my command. I will do everything in my power to make you happy Dan, to make you as happy as you’ve made me all of this time. I love you, now, last week, next year, and forever. Through thick and thin, high and low, richer and poorer, night and day, better and worse, I will be yours for as long as you’ll have me.”

Dan refuses to acknowledge the fact he’s crying again.

“And you Dan?” the priest asks. Dan nods, holding his hand over his mouth.

“Yeah, just gimme a minute,” he croaks. Phil smiles tenderly, reaching out to brush Dan’s tears away with the pad of his thumb, wetness glistening on his own cheeks. The watching crowd, all but forgotten by the two men, cooed collectively at the sweetness and care behind the gesture.

“Phi-“ Dan starts, his voice cracking. He sniffs. “Philip Michael Lester.” The blue-eyed man smiles again.

“I was told once that a friend would help you up when you fell, and a good friend would laugh and trip you again. But I think my best friend would be the one who falls down too so I don’t feel like a complete idiot. You are my three-am Skype calls from across the globe, my ride to the ER when I break my nose running into the wall, my hot water bottle on cold night. You are my partner in crime, my adventuring buddy, my reason to improve and the one I eat first in the event of an apocalypse.” Their assembled family and friends laugh.

“You are the day to my night, the sweet to my sour, the sun to my rain. You are the reason I get out of bed every morning – well, you and food. The point is, you are my best friend, my therapist, my lover, my muse, my anchor, my light and my heart, all rolled into one, and I can only hope you’ll still love me when my devilish good looks have long since faded because I’m not going anywhere for a long, long time.”

“Philip Lester,” the priest says once the sniffles from the audience have died down. “Do you ship it?” The assembled people laugh again, a call of “you giant meme” echoing from the back of the room. Dan raises a middle finger.

“I do,” Phil says, trying to choke back tears and laughter at the same time and ending up making this obnoxious raptor sound.

“Daniel Howell, do you ship it?”

“I do.”

“Then this OTP is now cannon!” The priest proclaims. “You may now suck face.”

Dan ignores all of the laughter, the whistles, and the shouted comments. He ignores everything except for the beautiful man right in front of him, all ebony hair and alabaster skin and kissable lips.

“I love you,” Phil says as Dan pulls him in, closing his eyes and slotting their mouths together.

“I love you too,” Dan mumbles against Phil’s mouth, his eyes flying open when he heard a familiar voice speak.

“Upminster station,” it says as Dan’s eyes reflexively close again against the unexpectedly bright light. “End of the line. Please mind the gap between the train and the platform.” 

Completely confused and disoriented, Dan gets to his feet. A single sentence said over the train’s intercom freezes him where he stands, sobs of disbelief and sadness threatening to burst forth from his chest.

“The time is four twenty-six on Saturday, June 4th. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I just did that.
> 
> Can anyone please tell me if the ending isn't clear for them? I'm a bit unsure if it makes complete sense, and if not I'd like to know so I can change it. Thanks for reading!


End file.
